Worn Boots Rhythm

morning boots on the floor calling me to rise once more clock strikes five the dark still clings coffee black and dreams take wings hands grip tools to shape the day building worlds that slip away this is our rhythm heart and bone sweat and soil we're never alone through the grind we find our fire working class lifting higher higher lunch pail stories round the break laughter cuts the heavy ache evenings glow on faces dear pulls me through another year so aching laughter cuts the heavy ache in shoulders pride in chest ish carved in every test no gold chains but chains we meant in the life that has no this is our rhythm heart and bone sweat and soil we're never alone through the grind we find our fire working class lifting higher through the grind we find our fire working class lifting higher worn boots by the door tomorrow calls forevermore worn boots by the door tomorrow calls forevermore more more more more more more more more more more more more more more more more more more more more more more more more more more more more more more more more more more more more more more more more more more more more more more more more more more more more more more more more more more more more more more more more more more more more more more more more more more more more more more more more more more more more more more more more more more more more more more more more more more more more more more more more more more more more more more more more more more more more more more more